Women Problems
by Grand Puba of All The Smurfs
Summary: The most horrifying event ever to happen in Las Vegas history...six cases of PMSing women. Might be continued if I feel like it, no implied pairings.
1. From Scared

"OH MY GOD!" A scream rang throughout the crime lab. Nick and Warrick looked up from their files, Gil poked his head from his office, Hodges, Henry, and Archie were awakened from their midnight dazes.

Greg came scrambling into the lab, bag dangling off his hand as if he had scooped it up in a hurry. Grissom intercepted the boy's mad dash for a broom closet.

"What is it, Greg?" He asked, wary of his constant movement. Greg let out a whimper.

"Catherine's PMSing!" He cried, throwing his hands in the air. Grissom shook his head in amusement.

"How do you know this?" He asked.

"When you grow up with three sisters, you learn to keep track of these things or get battle scars." Greg explained, running a hand through his massive spikes.

"I still don't see why it's such an apocalypse…" Grissom said.

"Because Wendy is too." Greg said, and on cue, Wendy and Catherine walked--more stormed--into the lab doors and huffed to their respective stations. On the way, Catherine bumped into Warrick and screamed at him, "Watch it, Afro!" Grissom became uneasy--hell hath no fury like a woman in mid-PMS--but kept his calm demeanor steady.

"That's still not so bad, Greg." He stated simply.

"It is when Mandy and Ronnie and Sara and Sofia have _it_ too." His voice was now the figure of panic, and he hopped from one foot to the other, as if preparing for a run. Grissom suddenly was overcome by a shocking wave of fear as a series of shrieks and snaps filled the air.

"Oh, God." He muttered, as the third woman of horror came to display herself. Ronnie, usually either cheerfully bouncing about or going on about her life, slouched in, black hair frizzed and uncombed to a state of terror, mouth lazily slung into a grumpy frown, modestly dressed in an oversized gray sweatshirt and torn jeans. As she passed Henry, she snatched the apple he was eating and shoved him into the wall.

Greg wiggled out of Grissom's grasp to duck under a table at the arrival of Sara. She, the fiercest of the Vegas women, had her hair in a messy ponytail, sporting baggy men's jeans and a T-shirt that hung off of her like a bag.

"Hello, Sar--" Grissom attempted to greet his girlfriend, but was rewarded with a punch in the shoulder and a growl--yes, a _growl_. Fearfully, Greg poked his head from underneath the table to see what was going down. Upon seeing Sara two feet from him, he sunk back down without a peep.

"What'ya want, old man!?!" Sara shrieked in Gil's face, causing him to jump back in shock. With a snort, the dragon turned on her heel and stalked off to kidnap a princess. Only then did Greg dare fully straighten himself from the shield of a table.

"Ha." He said simply. Barely had the words left his mouth than further activity disrupted the lab.

Enter Mandy, dressed normal enough, looking normal enough. Her voice, however, was not normal enough. It was so scratchy and hoarse it hurt to listen to. Taking off her glasses, tears began to stream down her face in rapids.

"Are you alright, Mandy?" A voice asked behind her. There was Warrick, unbeknownst to the impending crisis. Mandy's eyes turned to fire underneath the saltwater.

"No, I'm _not _alright! Not at all!" She sobbed, pushing past the wide-set man and running off, into the ladies' room. She had left Warrick confused and flabbergasted.

No sooner had that one left than another one entered.

Sofia Curtis entered the lab, hair askew as if she had just fallen over, jeans torn, face red and steaming.

"NICK!" She screamed, making fairly much everyone duck under their tables in fear of earthquakes. Greg, already being there, simply crawled onto his stomach and shielded his head.

Poor Nicholas Stokes, bless him, turned around innocently, genuinely confused as to what he did. He got his answer when Sofia grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall with that infamous detective strength.

"Wh-what?" He sputtered, raising his hands in surrender. Sofia growled.

"You know _what_, you little punk!" It was an odd use of the phrase, as Nick had a good two feet on her. Not that it was a best for him to be pointing that out, what with Sofia's knee inches from his…sensitive area.

"I…I really don't!" He exclaimed, eyes darting to Grissom, who could do nothing but stare in shock. No man in his right brain cells and…manhood would dare take another step towards the savage an her prey.

"Yes you do! _You_ ate all the freaking donuts, didn't you! Don't lie to me, Texan Dough Boy!" Sofia's face was inches from Nick's, who was blinking rapidly. He shook his head. Sofia screamed and viciously brought her knee up between his legs.

Leaving Nick howling in pain and curdled over, the blonde detective stormed off. After seeing that display of poison, several men covered their parts and jumped out of her way.

It was worse than one could imagine. Six women PMSing at the same time was, in a word, the most horrifying experience every were they to experience in their lives. And afterlife. And the next life. And the afterlife after that. And so on for all of all of humanity. Dear lord.

"Grissom?" Greg peeped from under the table, sticking his head out not an inch. Grissom looked down, for once in his career frightened, genuinely frightened.

"Yes, Greg?" He quivered, voice cracking.

"I'm scared."

A\N-Alas, I fear I shall have to end this little number here. Perhaps a sequel is in the works, but not another chapter. R&R if you want this to be continued!


	2. To Terrified

**Updated by popular demand. I'd better get some damned good reviews for this, people! You'd better love me!**

"This is horrifying." Henry exclaimed, storming over to the circle of gathering men. Greg remained bolted to his perch under the table, but had stuck his head out far enough that he could be part of the conversation.

"Can't you just give us the day off?" Nick asked Grissom. He shook his head.

"And leave two CSIs to work five cases? Ecklie'd have my ass."

"Then send us on the cases!" Warrick exclaimed.

"That won't do anything for us!" Archie yelled.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be on the field." Hodges said, thoughtfully. Nick punched the stumpy man in the arm. The men erupted in hushed argument. Only Greg noticed the six women gather in their own circle and begin to talk, faces growing redder with each word. His stomach fell.

"Guys." He said, standing. The men ignored him, while the women looked their way in unison. "Guys…" Greg's voice had become urgent, yet nobody glanced. They were walking towards them now. "The crow flies at midnight!" It was a final attempt of getting attention before they came any closer.

Seeing the zilch hope their was of making himself known, Greg saw no other option but to retreat, leaving his fellow man behind.

As he circled the corner, the young man heard the distinct yelps of realization, the bitter chat of anger and The Time of the Month One Must Never Utter For Fear of Being Slapped.

He set himself down onto a swivel chair and set to work on a random pile of evidence.

--

"We were born for this…" Greg sang along to the rapid music of the Paramore song playing in his head, giving him a work soundtrack.

Hours after the horrid introduction of terror, Greg's mind had drifted off to various subjects that to the average soul would be mind numbing and meaningless, but to his special Greg-mind were fascinating. And so he was content to dangling his feet on the table top, bopping to the music and drifting to wonders of whales and chinchillas.

His peace had been interrupted by a shrill scream.

"GREG!"

The young man tensed, clenching his teeth together for fear he would let a lighthearted comment escape and land him on death row.

Enter Catherine, heels clacking against the linoleum tiles.

Dear lord.

She wasn't alone.

Following her was Ronnie and Sara. And Mandy and Wendy.

God forbid, add Sofia and…

"_Shit_…" Greg mumbled, scrambling out of his comfortable position and making for the quickest exit.

Which was the door the ladies chose as well.

"Sit down, Sanders!" Sara hissed, kicking--yes, _kicking_--the poor boy back onto his chair, forcing him into a cyclone across the room, only stopped by the thick glass of the opposite wall.

He couldn't help but whimper as they stalked towards him.

"C-can I help you?" He stuttered, Converse sneakers tapping nervously. Catherine snorted.

"Like hell! Where's Warrick?"

"And Grissom." Sara added, tilting her hip.

"And Henry." Mandy crossed her arms.

"Hodges!" Mandy growled.

"Nick." Sofia's single word was soft and poisonous. She was the most feared of the six. She had a license to kill.

"I d-d-d-d-d-d-d--" Greg chattered, unable to answer. Catherine dug her heel into his shoe, the very same as before. Greg yelped.

"Spit it out, Spike!" She yelled.

"I don't know!" He screamed, dogging a grabbing hand in hast to escape the tightly formed circle around him.

Luck had no intentions of turning the tables to his favor, as Sara smacked him smartly on the head while Sofia stuck out her foot. He toppled to the ground, face-down, with a pained grunt.

Hands clawed him to his feet before the daze could fade, shoving him against the wall. Now 'twas Sara in his face, so close her nose nudged his.

"Listen, squirt," _I could take offense to that_, Greg thought simultaneously, "We know their around here somewhere. They're hiding like a bunch of fat-ass _babies_ and we _know _you _know _where the _hell _they freaking _are_!" Every other word was spat onto him, making the spiked young man flinch and shake his head.

"I haven't seen them in hours! I swear on my hamster's grave!" He told her, wriggling out of her grasp and landing outside of the circle. For all of two seconds. Before they turned around and made another one.

"Liar!" Ronnie yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. The woman gave their agreements.

"Why you wanna see them at all?" Greg asked. Catherine's eyes bugged.

"They're avoiding us! We wanna give them a piece of our minds!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the hair. From the corner of his eye, Greg saw his salvation scurry past the window.

"There's Henry! I'd recognize those Dumbos anywhere!" He yelled, wildly gesturing for the hallway the tech had just entered. Without another glance the women of the nightshift dashed away, out the door.

With a sigh, Greg slid down the wall, onto his ass. He glanced up into the unseen heavens.

He's not a merciful God, is he?

A\N-Would I dare keep this going a final chapter? What, dear readers, do you think I should do?


End file.
